Who's Your Night Surgeon?
by emily-teacup
Summary: The first time is always better with knives. Pavi/Shilo. De-anon from the Kink Meme. Warnings: Non-con, knifeplay, asphyxiation.


W h o 's Y o u r N i g h t S u r g e o n ?

Summary: The first time is always better with knives. Pavi/Shilo. De-anon from the Kink Meme. This is incredibly creepy, even for me, and I'm going to hell for writing this op'ra shit. Special hell.

Warnings: Non-consensual, knifeplay, asphyxiation

Disclaimer: I do not own Repo! The Genetic Opera or any of its affiliates. Those rights belong to Mr Terrance Zdunich. I don't own him, either – I guess he owns himself.

* * *

><p>Months had passed since the fateful night at the opera, where the overbearing father, the beloved soprano and the saviour – or was he the Devil? – of generations each met their own gory demise. A bullet, a metal railing, a faulty set of lungs… And a tiny, bug-eyed girl had fled the stage with her hair matted, her porcelain skin and her mother's old dress stained with crimson, leaving behind the three mangled corpses.<p>

Shilo Wallace was no longer a caged bird only capable of sitting and looking pretty whilst she dreamed about the outside world from behind the safety of her heavy glass pane windows. She would spend day after day at that window, staring into the world outside. People out there went about their lives as ordinary without sparing a single thought for the sick little girl indoors, and why should they? Only Shilo's father knew about her, after all. He made sure of that.

But with her father – who was, for all his flaws and his twisted multiple personalities, her only sense of protection and safety in a cruel world – well, with him gone, she didn't quite know where to go. The ending didn't quite work out the way they did in Shilo's childhood stories. And with the 'Ringmaster' of sorts – Rotti Largo, the true showman, the man who promised her the cure – well, with him gone, she didn't quite know what hope was left for her. The blood disease was manufactured - but, perhaps it was psychological, she didn't know – it was a part of Shilo's veins now, and she soon found that she couldn't last long without her medicine. Without it, her lungs had begun to hurt her terribly, her frail frame was prone to even more fainting fits and the illness was making her worse than ever.

So it was no surprise that little Shilo Wallace was found just months after the opera, hiding out in a disused tent in Sanitarium Square and still wearing her mother's shabby, blood-stained dress. She had always been tiny and pale, but now she was frail and white enough to be the envy of any Victorian woman. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in months and worst of all; she was running out of medicine. Shilo wished she had her mask with her; the tent was dingy and the floor was dirt and it was all affecting her terribly.

The big, old house she shared with her father (although most of her time was spent locked away in her bedroom) was gone, too. It was a privilege of the job, part of her father's contract to GeneCo. Although she'd thought of the house as her prison, it felt too strange and unfamiliar to be away from it, now – the room where she'd spent all time in sequestered dreaming, reading books about the outside world and collecting different samples of insects, whilst wishing she was somewhere else. Shilo was still slightly resentful of her father, after all – she'd just found out that she'd spent her whole life being lied to. She was entirely confused. _Dad was just trying to protect me. He loved me._

_He poisoned you._

_Yes, but only because…_

Suddenly, Shilo's breath caught in her throat. She'd heard a rustling noise come from outside the tent. Somebody must be in Sanitarium Square, but the gates were not open to the general public. Shilo leant forward, her lips pursed, trembling with anticipation – but the noise seemed to cease as soon as it had come.

"Graves?" she whispered, tip-toeing with care to the edge of the tent. If it was Graverobber, he could help her. She barely knew him, and he was far too independent to bother with a sheltered little kid like her…but he'd been kind to her, hadn't he? Perhaps that meant he liked her. Perhaps…

Then, just as suddenly, the gap in the fabric of the tent opened and Shilo's sharp brown eyes stared. She recognised him immediately; she'd seen him before. A mask of white, dead flesh stretched sharply over his own raw, scarred face, attached by metal hooks and framed by glossy black hair. It was Pavi Largo. Her pulse began to pound, immediately transported back to that…that dreadful night at the opera. "Shilo! We are all alone, si?"

Shilo reeled backwards, stumbling slightly and almost falling over a disused stool. "W-what are you doing here?" she stuttered, gazing around her, as though trying to work out the best escape route. _Please, just go away…_

Those dead lips parted and let out a shrill burst of laughter. "Ah, don't-a be like that! The Pavi just-a wanted to say hello, si?"

"How did you know where to find me?" Shilo demanded of him, but her voice was wavering with fear. Pavi took another step forwards, and she stepped back instinctively. He winked at her and giggled maniacally as she jumped. "Relax, _bella._"

"What do you want?" she asked sharply, placing her hand against her collarbone in a vain attempt to calm herself down. Pavi placed the free hand – the one which wasn't clutching the familiar hand mirror – against his own chest in mock-offence, and although the mask was smiling, she could tell he was pouting. "Shilo, you wound the Pavi! He just wants-a to help. But…is there anything he can do for _you?" _His eyes lingered on her chest, his smile twisted. She flinched. "No."

His eyes were fixed on her, intent and amused, those deformed lips twisting his face into a permanent smirk, stretching the skin of the mask – already too sharply pulled – horribly. "You-a sure?"

And before Shilo could think, he had grabbed her by one small, sallow wrist and pinned it up above her head, pushing her into the corner of the tent and immediately seeking out a pulse point on her neck, sucking hard. His mirror clattered to the floor. Shilo gasped and twisted as she felt the dead flesh press against her skin, two sets of lips at once. She'd never been touched like that before, but she already knew she didn't like it. It felt horribly wrong, and Shilo already knew there would be no appealing to his better nature.

After all, any Largo having a better nature was completely unheard of.

That didn't stop her from struggling, however, and quickly her petite form twisted, trying to free herself. She gasped, turning her head to the side and pushing at his chest, but he gripped both her small wrists tightly in one hand. His free hand trailed over the small swell of her chest as he repeated his earlier words, lips against her ear. "Don't be like-a that, si? The Pavi is just being friendly! You know you'll-a enjoy it!"

"Y-you said you'd help me…" she muttered weakly, turning her head, trying to cover her eyes from Pavi. "You said you wouldn't…"

"Ah, ah, ah! Shilo…" he tutted, and waving his hand in an overly-exaggerated gesture. "Haven't you learned-a your lesson? You should-a never trust-a a monster…" And with that, he grabbed her by her small waist, shoving her onto the floor and clambering over her, pressing his lips hard against hers in an effort to silence her gasps and protests.

Shilo's eyes widened and struggled to break free from his grasp, but Pavi had a tight hold on her wrists, forcing them behind her back, causing her to cry out in pain. The Largo smiled at that, before forcing his tongue down Shilo's throat – sharply and roughly, one hand tangling in her dark wig. Her throat felt as though it was constricted, and Shilo clenched her eyes shut tightly, willing it to all be over soon, hating the feel of those dead lips on hers. _Someone help me… Daddy, anyone, please…_

Despite Shilo's attempts to struggle, to free her hands, Pavi just pressed down slightly against her hip, forcing her hands to twist into a painful position which made Shilo cry out once more. His own hands were far too friendly as they tugged at the blouse of Shilo's dress. Within moments, and with obvious expertise, he had ripped her mother's dress right at the front – despite her protests – and gazed hungrily at the rise of her small breasts. She was still trembling and too distracted to notice Pavi fumbling in the pocket of his jacket – until she noticed the shine of a blade in the dull moonlight shining through the drape, Pavi holding it up to admire his latest face with it.

"Ah, who's-a your night surgeon?" Pavi purred, dragging the shining edge of the switchblade across the white, downy flesh covering Shilo's rising and falling clavicle. He watched as a thin slit of blood appeared, blossoming scarlet onto the surface, with a delighted look in his eyes which shone through the holes in the dead woman's face. His eyes, full of mirth, were by far now the most living thing about him. They were wide and excited. His stolen lips were quirked into a leering, maniacal smile. _Oh God, please no._

Shilo writhed from side to side, her lips pursed and her large eyes pricking with tears. She whimpered slightly and almost immediately found his finger on her lips, the disturbing smile stretching the fine-pulled skin. "No, bella, hush…" he hummed in a sing-song accent, turning the blade over absent-mindedly. "It will-a be over soon. Hmm?"

"Pavi, please don't," Shilo started, but he just chuckled and pressed his lips to her neck again, biting down harshly. She could sense the warning in it.

With Shilo left panting and breathless, Pavi took the opportunity to gaze at her with a hungry leer, seeing her panting with her dress hitched up slightly - all umber blacks and whites, and the unusual splatter of rosy blood covering her collarbone. "Ah, Shilo, you're positively _bella!" _he crooned in his usual falsetto. He trailed his fingers across her jawline, caressing the edge of her face very carefully as though he was memorising the exact shape and the smoothness of her skin, and Shilo flinched with horror, staring into his mask. She knew what he was thinking.

Slowly, Pavi trailed the blade over the swell of her collarbone, between her white, petite breasts and over her stomach – light and lingering this time, not sharp enough to break the skin. Her breath came fast and heavy as she tried to kick him off, but Pavi merely pressed his lower body against hers to stop her vain attempt at struggling, and rubbed his cheek against her neck. She shivered, hating the feel of his awful dead flesh and the gruesome metal clasps on her skin, and screwed her eyes tightly shut when she felt his lips follow the trail from her white breasts down to her ribs, humming under his breath happily. His fingertips ghosted over her breasts and nipples, measured the expanse of her stomach and her inner thighs. Shilo bit down hard on her lip, trying to stop her throat from making any noises which could encourage him.

Pavi looked up at her and gave her a teasing wink. "Aha, so you are-a enjoying this, bella? _Bene!" _

"No…" Shilo tried to protest, vainly, and Pavi quirked an eyebrow. "Shilo is-a hard to please, si? Well, the Pavi can do that!" He clenched her knee and then, suddenly, forced her legs open before she had the chance to kick him away. "Will he have to do a little-a more?"

Shilo squealed loudly, attempting to press her thighs together and stop him, but Pavi kept his hand there and wrenched her legs apart again with alarming strength. "Ah, come on-a, Shilo!" he murmured, with an amused glint in his eyes, although the exaggerated falsetto tone sounded lessened, carrying a hint of warning. "You will give into the Pavi in the end, si? Everyone-a does!"

With that, the young Wallace girl found herself swept up into his arms and pressed against the wall, as he giggled, keeping his body pressed against hers to keep her in place and pushed his hand up the skirt of her miniature black dress, exposing the tops of her thighs. His expression was one of intense delight beneath the mask, and he cooed happily, practically drooling. "Ah, what a treat for the Pavi! So very young and-a pretty, and so deliciously pale, all over…"

"Stop it…" Shilo muttered, twisting her head from side to side, and gasping – a sound which made the Largo grin with perverted delight. She could feel him pressing into her leg and the fabric of his trousers against her thigh. "Pavi, please-"

"Since you-a asked-a so nicely!" Pavi trilled, but rather than letting her go, he picked her up once more and pushed her onto the floor, climbing over her and sliding his knee between her legs to keep her in place. Shilo's hands immediately flew to his shoulders and began to claw at him, but that only served to make Pavi chuckle and rock his hips against her, making her sigh unintentionally.

He leant over and inspected her for a minute – his gaze seemed to burn into her, cold and unflinching, and she hated it - labouring the knife over the inside of her thigh, next to the taut bone there. It was the tiniest nick and the smoothest stroke, almost gentle, and soon it had opened, and a thin prick of blood was beginning to run. Shilo pursed her lips and contorted her face with the pain, her breathing unsteady. She shivered as Pavi looked up at her again and, with a disgusting smirk, bent his head and began to lap up the blood, licking a neat trail from her inner thigh to the join of her knee.

Shilo was still attempting to resist, but her breath was becoming increasingly laboured and struggling had grown more difficult. She was already losing the capacity to form words. As much as it stung, and she _detested _having Pavi's horrible mouth anywhere near her – it certainly felt different. Shilo was not used to other people's touches - she was barely even used to her own, being young and clumsy and inexperienced. Pavi noticed the short, sharp intake of breath and beamed. "It feels-a good, si?" He moved his tongue in slow, expert circles where a small clot of blood had begun to form on the surface. Shilo winced with pain again, and lifted her knee. With all her strength, she slammed it straight into his stomach, inches away from his crotch. Pavi winced dramatically, doubling over in slight pain. "_What was-a that for?_" Struggling furiously, Shilo managed to get her head free and shout. "Help!" she cried, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps.

_Blood pressure warning. Medicate immediately._

Pavi ignored the signs, noticing Shilo's petite frame becoming fainter and limper with every sob. Instead, he clasped his hand over her mouth tightly, removed his lips from her thigh, glancing up at her, and this time, behind the garish, painted smile – he looked rather annoyed. Shilo's heart clenched. "You shouldn't have-a done that, _bella," _he hissed, and Shilo, wracked with worry, began to think about apologising. What was he going to do? Maybe if she begged properly he would be satisfied, and leave her alone.

The Largo's teeth trailed down her thigh once more and this time, stopped at her drab white panties – so plain, Pavi thought, but the sight still had him smirking- and he quickly kissed the inside of her thigh before, with one quick rip of his teeth, Shilo's underwear lay torn around her ankles. Shilo clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Good-a girl," he murmured, lips shifting against her skin.

By now, the young Wallace wasn't quite sure what he was about to do, but she had an inclination. She'd heard about this sort of thing on the television, and the thought of it frightened her to death. And whilst Pavi didn't seem to share his brother's ill temper, she knew he would not take no for an answer, and Shilo was beginning to wish it was her who had been taken that night at the opera, instead of her father or Mag. At least she would be safe from Pavi. "I haven't…" she muttered weakly.

"Your-a first time?" He sounded delighted. "But of-a course! Don't worry, the Pavi will-a…make it worth your while, hmm?" She was vaguely aware of him unbuttoning the tight trousers he wore.

"Please, Pavi, don't do this," she begged, but he ignored her protests, grabbing her legs and wrapping them tightly around his waist – and with one sharp jerk of his hips, he had pushed his way inside.

Shilo's pretty features contorted with pain, the rough thrusts coming hard and fast. She'd heard that girls – or boys – in this position could feel pleasure, but it was too rough and brutal for Shilo to experience anything but pain. Perhaps he was still angry at her because of Rotti's will – perhaps that was why he was doing this. She didn't know. Pavi slumped against her shoulder, lips sliding against her flesh as he murmured. "Ooh…" he hissed, in an accent deeper and less suave than the one he usually used, making Shilo's spine tingle. "_Bella… _It feels so good, si?"

Shilo gasped, her waifish form wracked with her own sobs and the force of his thrusts. It was almost impossible for her to focus on anything but the _stinging pain_, and Pavi's horrible leer, and she was becoming faint…she clutched at her throat with her free hand. Eventually she was able to catch her breath and with a large, gasping sob, she choked out "_Help!" _again, praying with all her might that somebody would hear her. She was out of luck, though – nobody usually entered Sanitarium Square, and it had become clear that she and Pavi were indeed alone.

"I'm-a not fucking around, Shilo," Pavi hissed suddenly, and she froze. She'd never heard him sound like that – the tone wasn't like his usual falsetto, but rather threatening, and before she had chance to dwell on it, she felt Pavi's hands around her throat. At first he pressed gently, but soon those hands tightened and Shilo felt her vision narrow, her eyelashes flutter, her lungs burn for want of air. She'd felt faint and dizzy before, but that was nothing now – and she couldn't help but fall half-against Pavi. The Largo cooed at her, stroking back the tangled black wig she wore, and pushed her against the wall, keeping her steady and her legs in place. With one free hand, he trailed it absent-mindedly down to her nipple and began to rub in teasing circles. Shilo blinked up at him through dreary eyes.

All that came next was a sharp pain as Pavi thrust into her again, _over and over and over, _and Shilo registered vaguely that she must be bleeding – but an odd feeling followed, making her arch her back and her eyes fluttered open again. She looked down to see Pavi rubbing at her gently in between thrusts, angling his hips carefully and rubbing against her clitoris, making her gasp involuntarily.

"_Ooh…Uh…" _With a long, shuddering breath, the masked man reached his height and released inside her, slumped against her body. He gave one more weak thrust, beaming at her, and Shilo collapsed against him. The Largo brother placed his hand on her waist as he pulled out of her and buttoned up his trousers, keeping her steady, and gazed at her face as though searching for imperfections. Shilo's eyes flickered to the switchblade lying unused on the floor, and a dull note of terror sounded within her. She wanted to move, wanted to scream, but she couldn't. _Someone, anyone – oh, Daddy, please…_

But suddenly Pavi's attention was captured by a loud, angry voice and a set of footsteps outside the tent, and Shilo followed his eyes, too. "_Pavi!_ Fuckwit, is that you?" She didn't know why Luigi Largo was looking for his brother, but a gasp of relief escaped Shilo's throat and as he let go, she fell to the floor. Pavi dropped to his knees, taking Shilo's hand and kissing her knuckle before she could snatch it back. "Coming-a, brother!" he drawled, getting to his feet, and turned to Shilo. "_Ciao, _Shilo…You were-a wonderful! The Pavi see you around again, si?"

Pavi shot one last, lingering glance at her before disappearing through the hole in the junction, leaving Shilo on her knees on the floor, staring at the dirt. Her body was convulsed with sobs, she felt violated and confused, and she could vaguely make out the sound of the Largo's laughter as he walked away, before her vision faded and she fainted on the floor.


End file.
